Beyond Revenge: The Story of L's Copy
by SleeplessShinyOne
Summary: A peculiar seven-year old orphan is dropped off from the Winchester Social Services Department into a familiar elderly man's office. Specifically, an orphan with red eyes, dark hair and a tendency to be a psycho. The complete chronicles of Beyond Birthday's childhood, from the day he meets Watari onwards. This is rated T from the very start for dark themes and violence eventually.
1. Chapter One: Orphan

A/N: Heyyy. Since Seven Deadly Sins is on a bit of a mental blank hiatus, I present you with:

B's childhood. XD

Enjoy and review, please? Any comments or questions just shoot me a message.

Love y'all. :D

Shiny

* * *

"Mister Quillish...?"

It was the voice of a persistent man, one who was absolutely determined to solve all the world's problems, and at the moment, Quillish Wammy, (alias Watari) strongly disliked him.

"Come in, Darrell," sighed the elder, pressing a button on his wall to allow the head of the Winchester social services to enter.

"I'm going to make this brief, and this is an outstanding case, since I have actually brought the child with me.."

Watari gave a long breath out, massaging his temples with two fingers on each side. What was it this time: a runaway, a mistaken identity, parental abuse? Darrell was famous for giving him children he couldn't keep because they always went into someone's custody eventually. Orphans were just not common anymore in this particular area, and in desperately trying to keep his job and admittedly small paycheck going, the social worker had begun to overcompensate- he had become mainly an annoyance to Watari throughout the past few years.

Watari, in addition to being well-dressed and elderly, was extremely wealthy and cared immensely for the well-being of children, so the philanthropist had spent quite a potion of his extensive riches constructing many orphanages around Europe, namely Wammy's House, an institution for gifted children. Owning so much child-sanctuary real estate naturally led to every social worker or concerned citizen in the country calling him with attention-starved, loving-family-deprived children that Watari was happy to take in and provide with the previously lacking food, shelter and a temporary home.

Thus, the current scenario.

"What happened?"

Watari eventually caved in, admittedly curious about why the child needed to be kept here even while Darrell consulted with him.

"I found this seven-year-old boy just roaming the streets. He told me there was a car crash. Mother dead. I checked up on her records for more info on the kid; found out that the dad's dead too, long gone, apparently. He was a "drunkard" and "nuisance" from the dozen or so arrest warrants that I read. Abusive to the wife. You know... the whole troubled home deal. No siblings, no living uncles or aunts on either side."

"Grandparents?" Watari steepled his fingers, leaning back in his chair.

"Died also...about six years back. Cancer and pneumonia, respectively."

"I see. A true orphan..."

Even for someone working overtime just to earn a living, Darrell seemed unusually on edge, his tired, world-weary eyes slightly dilated and his posture nervous and strained, an anxious hand running slowly over the stubble growing on his cheeks.

"Why did you bring him here right now? I don't even know if that's legal.." Watari couldn't keep a tone of quiet disapproval from his voice.

"He's... different." Darrell watched Watari's face tensely, searching for a reaction.

"Different how?"

"He wasn't in our database of consensus. He's not a legal citizen of Great Britain, or as a matter of fact he's not a legal citizen anywhere. By law, he technically doesn't exist."

"Okay..." Watari prompted, waiting for more.

"He wouldn't tell me his name, no matter what, but he knew mine, just looked at me and said it aloud easy as you please, like he was reading the paper. Kept talking about my 'numbers.' It took me three days to track him down and grab him, and he bites and uses his nails to scratch... Hard."

The haggard middle-aged man displayed a hand and wrist full of scratches and bitemarks, the look on his face identical to the expressive scowl of an old soldier showing off his battle wounds to his inexperienced comrades.

"He curls up in a ball all the time," Darrell continued in a peculiar, almost frightened tone, "screams about monsters. After watching over him for a few days, I came to the conclusion that he should be given an examination and the proper tender loving care he obviously needs."

"What kind of examination?" the older man asked warily.

"A mental one."

* * *

"Quillish Wammy."

The child standing before him had _red eyes._ Watari had always tried to avoid discrimination against the orphans based on their looks, but this was more than slightly intimidating.

"Hello there." Watari bowed his head slightly, ever the polite gentleman, even to a child of seven.

"Your name is Quillish Wammy and your numbers are 11504."

The boy peered up at him with those large eyes and reached into his ear-length messy black hair to scratch his head, which appeared to be mainly concealed by this terribly maintained wild thicket of follicles. Everything about him was angles and contrasts- his pitch-dark hair and stark white skin, his soft-seeming red lips and his sharp looking pale teeth, his pointy, long arms and legs.

"How do you know my name?" Watari asked the young man curiously, allowing himself one question.

"It's not for me to tell you," was the quick response.

"Can you please tell me your name? I need you to at least tell me that. Or else you can't take an I.Q. test and see if you can come to Wammy's House."

"My name," muttered the newcomer through a mouthful of spiky hair, "is Beyond. Beyond Birthday."

* * *

First chapters always suck, so at least I tried to get past what always sucks. XD Remember, if you wanna ask a question, feel free, again, to PM me. I'll be updating weekly on this unless something dreadfully important comes up (i.e. vacation, etc). So to recap... If you liked it, please leave a review, or even if you don't- hey, I'd love to hear what to improve.

Love again, Shiny the Repetitive. 3


	2. Chapter Two: Indecision

Before I send you to the bottom for the author's note, I will let you all know that there is such thing as _a slingshot that shoots machetes._

... YES. JUST **_YES._**

* * *

**Beyond Revenge: The Story Of L's Copy**

**Chapter Two: Habits**

* * *

"Beyond? That's certainly an odd name," Watari voiced his thoughts absently, then recoiled slightly at the boy's angry expression.

"Quillish is just as odd," he pointed out, a small scowl developing along his mouth, as he settled himself down onto the floor, his arms wrapped around his knees in a defensive pose.

"Okay... So you are here because you are an orphan, no?" Trying to move the conversation away from potential hostility, Watari spoke again, leaning down to the boy's level.

"Yes, but I'm mostly here because Darrell caught me and carried me here, saying I needed a 'psychotic examination.'"

"You talk strangely well for a young boy," Watari commented, choosing to ignore the child's red eyes yet again, instead settling for noting the clipped vowels and expansive vocabulary.

"Darrell gave me a written test of sorts. For schooling."

"How did you do?"

"I am a genius." This was said flatly, in a tone that was neither self-deprecating nor arrogant.

"Oh?" Watari's brows furrowed as he studied the pale face, searching for evidence of lies. Finding none, he began to take notes furiously, which prompted the little boy to leap up and try to peek.

"_No,_ Beyond." The elderly man snatched his paper away.

* * *

The phrase- "_No, _Beyond," became commonplace during that month. Watari, in a state of worry, had called dozens of orphanages in England, some of them even founded by himself but run by others, and inquired if they had schools or at least facilities that would suit a seven-year old genius. None of them seemed to be willing or able, and Watari was getting more and more aggravated. Beyond had been staying at the Social Services department, with regular visits from administrators, to entertain and educate him.

"How about we play cards?"

"_No."_

"What about Snakes and Ladders?"

_"No."_

"Twenty Questions? Mother May I? Football? ANYTHING?"

"**_No."_**

Beyond was a difficult child, stubborn and quiet, taking and touching things he was not supposed to and never taking suggestions on how to complete tasks. He was an astoundingly picky eater, too; playing with his food halfheartedly and never quite ingesting it. Hours later, the social workers with midnight shifts would come into the kitchen to find him sitting on the table, knees drawn up to his chest in a crouch, fingers and lips stained red as he dug eagerly into a jar of strawberry jam.

"Oh," Beyond tugged on Watari's sleeve as they passed a large department store. "That's pretty. It interests me."

He was pointing to a giant silver knife in a display case. Slightly disturbed by this, the man hastened his charge along, to get home and possibly get his mind off the weapon he seemed to be so fascinated by.

But the jam-sneaking habits, love of sharp things, and stubborn behavior were nothing compared to the fits of insanity Beyond would experience about twice a week.

Coleen, the motherly and kindly old woman in charge of three of the nearby homeless shelters, had come into Beyond's room to change his dusty curtains in the middle of the night, and found the seven-year-old curled in a ball, emitting a shrill scream. His hands were clenched tight over his ears and he was rocking quickly back and forth, beating his head against his bed-frame rather forcefully. "NOOOOOO!" was the only coherent word he ever spoke; the rest of the shrieks were inhuman and terrifying, and as heartbreaking as a wounded baby crying. No amount of rocking could calm him, Coleen quickly learned, and the only thing that seemed to work slightly had been wrapping the sheet around him tightly and providing a safe haven of sorts for him in the bed. Exactly thirty minutes later, B came out of his trancelike state, clueless and scared of what had happened, bumps covering his poor little forehead, his throat and lungs worn out, his voice hoarse and tiny whenever he spoke aloud.

The only good thing about these "psychotic" outbursts, as Darrell put it dryly one visit, was that they only happened from precisely three a.m. to four a.m., on Wednesdays and Fridays. The rest of the week, Beyond was quite docile in comparison and slept mostly well. The staff had learned to pad Beyond's headboard with soft materials and bury their heads in their pillows during this time, and by the end of the month, the kids of the social workers were all picking on him and calling him Psycho Boy.

"There's no other choice." Watari was now speaking into the phone, as his most trusted assistant, Roger, sighed on the other end.

"Fine. Then it's Wammy's House for him."

* * *

I'm sorry. The real world's a bitch and love is a bitch but it's inevitable and impossible to fall out of, and also family crap, which is a pain but y'gotta love 'em. And school registrations and music stuff and feh and this summer's been hectic. I've been to so many random places and random events and so many people matter so much in my life and they all suddenly mattered more at once- it's insane. 0_o

WARNING. School is death. Updating will not be often on current stories. Sorry, but it's life. ACADEMIC DEATHYNESS is inevitable.

It's 12:29 AM. Goodness, I start stuff at times ending with 9 all the time. I'll stop whining now.

The link to the machete slingshot is in my profile, just sayin'.


End file.
